Pulling Feathers
by Mistress Reigns
Summary: The night has finally come and Dean can't wait to welcome his best friend into the official fold.


The night he comes up to the main roster, Dean is sitting outside the arena waiting for him. It's fucking pathetic how attached he is to his former partner, the man who'd once been his entire world. They'd clung to each other even as they'd ripped each other apart and only a quick escape saved Dean from drowning in him. Now, though? Now he's so tired of pretending to be someone and something he's not, and this is the first chance he has to get back who he used to be.

Even the belt around his waist does nothing for him. The fucking WWE World Heavyweight Championship—condensed to one belt after Roman took it off of Cena at _WrestleMania 31_—isn't enough for him. He traces patterns on it idly, remembering when he took it off of Orton.

His eyes scan the parking lot for headlights as he splays his taped hand across the cold gold, almost able to taste the blood on his tongue when an RKO onto a metal chair busted open his lip. So much for that "no blood" bullshit to keep the kids from legitimately freaking out at the sight.

And he has the stupid match with Kane tonight. Retirement match, luckily. Kane is just _done._

Not that Dean can blame him. He's put a damned long time into this company. He's tired.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn't even hear the car approaching until headlights nearly blind him, and he squints through his fingers to make out a messy head of black hair. _Sami. Fuck yes._

He stands just as Sami slides out of the car—fucking calling him Solomon, that doesn't suit him at all, but the Crowe part maybe does—and immediately closes the distance between them. They haven't even touched yet and still his skin surges with sparks as he eyes the younger, shorter man. Time has changed him. He's lost weight and he doesn't spike his hair like some little goth version of Sheamus anymore, and he's lost the black eyeliner Dean always thought was so fucking sexy, but he's still Sami. He's still fucking Sami and Dean just exhales in relief because he didn't really know what to expect. His schedule's been too hectic for him to make a single NXT event and so he wasn't able to even be there when Sami won, then dropped, the NXT title.

"Ambrose." Sami smirks up at him and with that single word, he's managed to twist Dean right around his finger once again. God, he's missed Sami. Even before he started getting booked all the time in preparation for his title reign, he just hasn't had the time to go and spend with Sami. "You look good with the gold around your waist. I saw your match. It was fucking insane."

The inside of his mouth is dry and he wants to tell Sami that he'd watched every episode of NXT loyally because he has. He's seen all of their live events and he was sitting between Roman and Seth on the bed in their hotel room, squeezing both of their hands tightly while he held his breath and prayed that Sami won because he wanted to see him win. But he's not able to put it into words the way he wants to. Instead, he uses actions because in the ring actions speak louder than words, and right now actions are all he has. He presses Sami up against the side of his own car, pausing, a million silent questions passing from his lips—_is this okay, do you want this, is it okay if I, are you gonna push me away_. But Sami doesn't push him away. Instead, he twists a hand in the front of Dean's shirt and pulls him closer, their bodies melding together and it isn't like it used to be because Dean is honed down to muscle and so is Sami, it's not like when they were Switchblade Conspiracy _at all._ But his skin still runs with flames and electricity and chills and he has to kiss Sami, has to transfer some of it to him before Dean goes fucking insane from it all.

"I missed you, too. Fuck." Sami grips the front of his shirt tighter and almost tears it. "Missed you so fucking much. Fucking hoped with everything in me I'd get moved up soon."

Dean pants and kisses him again and again, dizzy from the lack of oxygen but he doesn't care and he can take it. The burn in his chest, the tightness of his throat. He can take it for Sami. "Missed you, too. Was on Hunter's ass this entire time about moving you up soon. Fuck, Sami."

No one else is in the parking lot, but they still take the safety of the back of Sami's car just in case. The arena is a safer place to do it—Ryder and Rose have been having rampant sex in nearly every arena they step into anymore—but Dean doesn't want to risk anyone walking in on them. Not because he's embarrassed; he's been naked in front of almost the entire roster. But Sami is his and always will be, and he refuses to share a single moment they have together with anyone else. Even Seth and Roman. Sami just means that much more to him than anyone else does.

"Please tell me you brought lube because I do not have enough room to eat you out to get you wet enough." Dean shoves Sami down, kneeling between his thighs spread wide in offering.

Sami smirks up at him. "Back pocket. Get my jeans off and you can have it if you want it."

"You know I want it." Dean leans back, gets his shoes off, fights with his jeans. "Fucking jeans."

"Your ring gear has been fucking jeans for years, Dean. Shut up," Sami mutters up at him.

Dean ignores the comment since he doesn't know what to do with it and instead gets Sami's jeans off, almost dying when he sees Sami isn't wearing anything underneath. Little fucker knew what they were doing as soon as he showed up, so Dean has to give him bonus points for that even as he finds the lube and tears the cap off of the small bottle with his teeth.

"Hey." Sami's hand is in his hair, yanking it hard until he looks down at him in silent question, fingers slick, twitching with anticipation. "Hey, I missed you, too. Now make it worth my time."

He should backhand Sami for that but he doesn't. Instead, he roughly stretches the younger man and squeezes his eyes shut at the sounds that leave those utterly kissable lips. The thought makes him lean down and fuse their mouths together, muffling those sounds and taking possession of them all at the same time as his fingers roam deeper into Sami's body. As soon as he's sure it's not going to hurt too much, he yanks his owns jeans down and Sami does the honor of getting him ready. God, it's been so long and yet there's a familiar rhythm to this, a pattern they fall into without hesitation as Dean slots himself back between Sami's pale, trembling legs.

Thrusting inside of him, not stopping until he's in to the hilt, knowing Sami wants it like that and needs it like that. Finding reassurance in the way Sami's nails dig into his arms, hips bucking up to meet him. He finds his own grip on Sami's hips, grasping them tightly enough to leave bruises as he pushes his way deeper inside of the body that seems made to fit him and only him.

There's no romance in it. They don't have time for that bullshit right now. Instead, it's just raw fucking. Dean braces his hand on the door, his knuckles knocking against the cold window every time he slams himself inside, trying to keep himself high enough off of Sami so the belt around his waist doesn't cut into Sami's skin but low enough that the cold metal brushes over his skin, adding that little bit of sensation to this. Every time he thrusts in, Sami clenches tight around him, little cries spilling from his lips. When he comes, he screams and for a minute it's all white noise.

Dean is curled on top of Sami, covering him, Sami's head pressed into the crook of his neck. His fingers find the dark hair there, tugging at it lightly until Sami grunts in answer. No, Solomon does not and never has suited his little Sami, but Crowe… He runs his fingers through dark hair like so many feathers. Crowe fits just fine for his dark little bird.

* * *

**_A/N: So Dean and Sami have rough sex in the back of the car, right? Anyway… This is obviously set in the future since Sami is still wrestling dark matches on NXT (I could write a set of encyclopedia length essays on why that is essentially stupid when some of the main roster aren't half as talented in the ring or on the mic) and Dean doesn't have the WWE World Heavyweight Championship. Based on his size and skills, I'd say a major title reign from him wouldn't be far off, so… Anyway, have fun with this. I plan on writing more Dean/Sami since I just keep finding cute pictures of them from CZW._**


End file.
